A Sad Birth
by webkinzlover74133
Summary: Funny thing is, this story is actually a snippet from my upcoming Warriors fan novella, "Brightfeather's Sacrifice", only in Stumpspots's perspective. When it is put in that novella it will be from Brightfeather's perspective. I hope you enjoy this. It took a lot of work since I've been on writer's block for a long time.


_A piercing wail of_ agony echoed across the ThunderClan camp, making Stumpspots jump up from his spot next to the fresh-kill pile where he was eating a squirrel. The mottled brown tom ran for the nursery and burst into the entrance. He looked down on his mate Brightfeather and he felt his blood run cold. She was giving birth and it was going horribly wrong. An unceasing tide of her blood ran from her and soaked the moss of her nest.

"Brightfeather, can you eat some of this for me?" the elderly medicine cat Thymestem asked the queen, crouching at her side. She waited for a few heartbeats for Brightfeather to respond, but all she got from her was a shudder as a tremor passed over her heaving, swollen flank. Thymestem pried the brown-and-white she-cat's mouth open and placed some herbs inside. After a second Brightfeather slowly chewed the bitter leaves.

After she did, Thymestem padded over to Stumpspots with her head drooping and her tail dragging in the dust.

"Stumpspots, I don't think I can do anything for her." She looked up at the brown mottled warrior with green eyes clouded with despair. "If her bleeding continues she'll most likely die." She paused when she noticed Stumpspots's throat clench. "But…her kits will probably survive."

"I don't want to lose Brightfeather!" Stumpspots's voice cracked. "She means everything to me!"

"You'll be lucky just to have your kits!" Thymestem snapped. Stumpspots realized the old medicine cat looked just as stressed and weary as her mentor, Willowbark, did when she helped his mother, Azurepelt, with helping her give birth. She was old, just like her former apprentice was now.

"I know." He bowed his head.

"I could use your help, however," the golden-brown tabby she-cat went back over to her patient as Brightfeather's whole body was raked with a giant spasm. "Help me with her kits, please. She's getting there."

Stumpspots dipped his head and padded over to his struggling mate. He whispered in her ear, "You're going to be okay, just hang in there."

"Let me know if you see any kits," Thymestem reminded him, trying to give Brightfeather some more herbs.

Stumpspots paid close attention to the pool of blood spilling out of her. The queen gave a push as another spasm raked her painfully. "She is starting," he noted.

"Good." The medicine cat came to his side and pushed in front of him. "I'll take it from here."

Stumpspots dipped his head again and shrieked at the sight he saw before him. "The first kit! I see the first kit!"

"Quiet, mousebrain! Before you alert the whole Clan into chaos!" Thymestem ran her paw over Brightfeather's flank as it contracted again. "Keep going, you're doing great," she whispered to her gently. "The first kit is coming."

"First kit…" Brightfeather's mouth opened once and closed quickly after speaking.

Suddenly, with a final heave, a tiny tom kit slithered out and into the pool of blood, its fur matted and sticky.

_It is a tom! _The mottled brown tom noticed. The tom kit was brown and mottled—just like him—only with a more distinct pattern. "Should I lick this tom kit?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," Thymestem didn't move her eyes to look at Stumpspots. She just continued stroking Brightfeather. "I'll lick the next kit."

"Almost done, Brightfeather," Stumpspots said to his mate. "One more to go." He stopped when he realized she wasn't listening. She was too weak and she was rapidly losing blood. He bent over and began licking away the tangles and blood in the mottled brown tom kit's fur. A small purr rumbled in his throat as he did so.

He pricked his ear when the brown-and-white queen pushed again in sync with another spasm that was bigger than the one before. Suddenly, the other kit's hind paws were visible and were weakly flailing.

"Thymestem, the second kit is coming," Stumpspots murmured, continuing to lick his newborn son.

Before Thymestem could ease Brightfeather forward, the queen heaved harder than with the first kit and another tiny tom kit slithered out and into the pool of blood, wriggling feebly. Brightfeather panted shallowly, shuddering. Stumpspots picked the second tom kit's scruff and put him down at the medicine cat's paws.

"He looks like his mother," Thymestem chuckled and bent down to lick the tom kit that was brown with a white tail-tip, belly, and chest. His fur was blood-stained and it took many rapid and rough licks to cleanse it completely, especially on the white fur. The two cats licked the kits at their paws until they were clean. When they were done, the golden-brown tabby medicine cat took the mottled brown tom kit from his father and prodded him and the brown-and-white tom kit against their mother's chest fur, between her paws.

"I'll leave you with them now. Brightfeather may join StarClan soon." Thymestem looked frailer than ever now, as if the kitting drove the last of her strength from her body. She limped out and the only sounds Stumpspots could hear were the faint squealing of his kits, his mate panting and wheezing, and his own heart beating quickly.

He avoided the pool of blood and settled down beside his family, on the ground next to Brightfeather's nest. He nuzzled her cheek. "Brightfeather?" he pleaded, his green-yellow eyes wide. "We need to name our kits. I want you to remain alive so we can name them."

Brightfeather opened her eyes and squinted at her mate, unsure if it really was him. Her eyes were dull and her breath came slowly. "I can feel them…" she murmured.

"They're both toms—healthy kits!" Stumpspots couldn't help bursting out.

Brightfeather looked down at the purring bundles of fur between her paws. "I'll name the one that looks like you," she breathed, licking the top of the mottled brown tom kit's head. "How about Logkit?" she asked. "I think it suits him."

Stumpspots choked back a sob and nodded. "I like Logkit." He thrust his muzzle forward and buried his nose into the brown-and-white tom kit's fur. "And I'll name this one Nettlekit."

"Nettlekit," Brightfeather echoed before dropping her head on her paws.

"No! You can't go Brightfeather! You're strong! You need to live to take care of our kits, Logkit and Nettlekit!" Stumpspots wailed, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I see StarClan all around me, Stumpspots." Brightfeather seemed strangely calm. "Don't worry. Another queen will look after them. They will become fine warriors, I'm sure of it."

"Brightfeather…" Stumpspots trailed off, realizing her eyes were glazing. The brown-and-white she-cat gasped and her body jerked once, then lay still. Brightfeather was dead. Her unseeing eyes, still fixed upwards, shone of the light of Silverpelt.

A slow mourning moan rang from Stumpspots, and he buried his nose into his lifeless mate's fur, feeling the coldness of the body beneath it. "May StarClan light your path, my love," he whispered. His jagged breaths of grief stirred Brightfeather's limp fur and Logkit and Nettlekit squirmed around blindly, searching for their dead mother's milk.

Thymestem padded into the nursery, her eyes closed. "I'm sorry, Stumpspots," she said solemnly. "There was nothing more I could do for her. She hunts with StarClan now…with Willowbark." The medicine cat began to tremble, and Stumpspots brushed his side against hers.

"I know. And I understand," the mottled brown warrior muttered.

"I could've given her a raspberry leaf to stop her flow of blood, but I knew it was too late. Chervil didn't work, and I felt so useless," Thymestem confessed. "I'm getting old and soon Poppydust will have to take my place as medicine cat."

"You did all you could," Stumpspots reassured her. 

"Are the kits alright?" she asked, pricking her ears in curiosity.

"Yes. They're with Brightfeather." Stumpspots pointed with his tail over to where the kits were resting.

"I'll go see them." When Thymestem saw the kits, to her horror, they were no longer moving. Their tiny sides didn't rise and fall with breath, and their eyes were shut. Her eyes stretched wide and her fur spiked up along her neck. "They're dead too, Stumpspots."

"HOW?!" Stumpspots ran back over and saw just what Thymestem had seen. He touched them, and to his paw pads their bodies were cold beneath their tiny pelts. He began to shake violently with grief. Now everyone was gone! Brightfeather, Logkit, and Nettlekit. He was hoping just as much as Brightfeather that their kits would become fine warriors, but they didn't last that long.

"They looked weak from the start," Thymestem pointed out. "I could see it in the way they moved around. I wondered if they inhaled a bit of Brightfeather's blood when they took their first breaths." She bowed her head. "I'm so, so sorry for your loss."

Stumpspots lay by his mate and kits' side for what seemed like moons. He was awoken by a soft prod on his shoulder. He looked up and saw the face of the medicine cat who felt had failed him.

"I'll go with you to bury them," she meowed, sadness still cracking her voice. "I already dug holes for each of them."

Stumpspots breathed in the sweet scent of his mate and kits before helping Thymestem drag his loved ones to the burial place where their bodies would rest.

The End


End file.
